Soul Forge (Book One of the Soul Forge series)

Elda woke up surrounded by silk pillows and sheer curtains, stretching happily when she remembered she was no longer confined inside her palace. Her grin widened when she thought of the change in Sypher. He’d stayed a while longer with her, asking questions about her life and telling her stories of her father from before she was born. He even told her the Basilisk story himself. She had no idea he could talk so much, and she’d hung on every word.

She was taken by this new side of him. The Sypher underneath the trauma was quick to smile, incredibly intelligent, and he had a wicked sense of humour. He was still sarcastic, and small things would make him retreat back into his shell, but he was softer with her. His comments were no longer barbed, and she saw in the small touches that he was already working hard to be comfortable around her.

She was giddy at the thought of her first real day as his Keeper. He finally trusted her, and she couldn’t wait to see what he had to teach her. It had frightened her at first, but she was quickly realising that a Keeper was who she was meant to be.

A quiet tap on her door had her leaping out of bed, worried she’d overslept for her first real day of training. She slipped a long silk robe over her nightgown and threw open the door to find Sypher behind it with a tray of food. There were dark circles under his eyes again.

“Morning,” she grinned. “You brought me breakfast?”

“Don’t get used to it. It’s part of my apology.”

“I already forgave you,” she frowned, stepping aside to let him in.

“Oh, this is a different apology.”

“Now what did you do?” she asked warily.

“It’s pre-emptive. I’m going to kick your ass today.”

“Like last time?”

“Worse,” he grinned. “I said next time would be harder, remember?”

“You did say that.” Nerves settled in her stomach, and she looked down at the food she was suddenly too anxious to eat. “How much harder?”

“Nothing you can’t handle.” Her eyes lifted to look at him, brows creeping up towards her hairline.

“You said I was terrible at fighting. You told me I hit like a girl. I feel like kicking my ass is a bit unfair, considering I’m a novice.”

“You’ll only get better by pushing yourself.” He cocked his head. “You know I can heal you after.”

“But healing me hurts you.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters,” she argued. “I’m not comfortable with you hurting yourself to fix me.”

“Tough,” he shrugged. “Training starts in fifteen minutes. If you’re not out by then, I’m coming to find you.” Elda watched him leave, shaking her head slowly.

She scarfed down some fruit and threw on one of the tunics and a pair of trousers left by Gira, barely managing to get her hair braided and her boots on before it was time to leave. She got lost in the villa, but eventually managed to find her way out to the gardens. She found Sypher and Julian chatting with one another quietly.

“There she is,” the Vampire beamed. “Sypher was getting ready to drag you out here himself.”

“Are you ready?” the Soul Forge asked. He’d gone without his armour, opting for a white tunic and his usual dark leather trousers. The sleeves were rolled up, the collar open to reveal the chord always present around his neck. She hid a smile when she saw his gloves were tucked into his pocket, the runes on his hands bared for the world to see.

“As I’ll ever be,” she agreed, squaring her shoulders.

It took exactly four seconds for her to land on her back in the grass. She got to her feet, dusted herself off and tried again, only to find herself on the floor once more. The third time, she managed to avoid Sypher’s leg sweep, only to miss the elbow slamming into her solar plexus and landing on her knees, gasping for air.

“You’re paying too much attention to my legs,” Sypher told her. “You need to balance it. If you focus on whether I’m about to kick you, you forget that I could also punch you. Or headbutt you.”

“You’d headbutt me?” she choked, still struggling to breathe in.

“If you were trying to kill me and I had no other choice.” He waited for her to stand up again. “Remember what I told you at the palace. Defence is better than offence if you know you’re outmatched.”

“You said that was for facing opponents who could get tired.”

“I know.”

“You don’t get tired,” Elda complained.

Sypher flashed her a wicked grin. “Sucks for you then.”

She grunted when he swung for her, throwing her arms up just in time to protect her face. Another leg sweep followed and she hopped awkwardly backwards. She kept picking up painful bruises when she didn’t quite get out of the way, but he knocked her to the ground less and her reflexes were improving slowly. She forgot about Julian watching from the sidelines, focussed only on avoiding more bruises.

She shocked herself when Sypher went for her legs again, instinctively kicking out his knee with her heel. He grunted when it struck the dirt and Elda wasted no time locking an arm around his neck in a chokehold. She realised her mistake when he chuckled and pitched her forwards, throwing her over his shoulder and leaving her flat on her back again.

“Ouch,” she wheezed.

“Next time you go for a chokehold, use your whole body,” Sypher instructed.

“What do you mean?”

“Latch on like a spider monkey,” Julian called from the sidelines. “He can’t throw you off if you won’t let go.”

“Can I try it?” Sypher nodded. “You’re sure you’re okay with that much contact?”

“I’ll be alright. It’s different during training.” He got down on one knee, mimicking the way he’d landed. “Now try again.” She did as he instructed, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso.

“Squeeze like you’re trying to pop his head off!” Julian heckled. Elda did, with her arms and her legs, squeezing until her joints ached. Sypher pitched forwards and threw himself with her this time, but she clung on through the roll, staying latched around him like a parasite until he was back on one knee. He tapped her arm twice, signalling that she’d won. She let go and dropped off of him, collapsing onto the grass with a groan. Her entire body throbbed and they were barely half way through the day.

“Well done.”

“I did well?” she asked hopefully.

“You did, but you need a break. I’m going to show you something different now.” Julian passed them each a water skin, winking at her when she couldn’t hide her relief.

“Am I going to get punched again?”

“Not right now. I’m going to give you your Soul Blade.” Her eyes lit up eagerly, the water skin forgotten. Sypher waved his hand and a brilliant light coalesced above his palm, so bright Elda had to look away. When she looked back all the air whooshed out of her.

Floating above his hand was the most beautiful white recurve bow. It was long and slender, made of a pearly substance smoother than wood, but still flexible. Intricate silver metalwork surrounded the grip, bordered by real, living vines that seemed to grow from the weapon itself. A blue gemstone sparkled within the silver, lit by whatever magic hid inside. Swirling patterns covered the bow from end to end, brimming with the power of a language she couldn’t read.

“It’s a bow,” she whispered softly, reaching out to take it from him. “I was expecting a sword.”

“The weapon reflects the user. This is what felt right for you,” Sypher shrugged.

“It’s perfect.” She ran her fingers along the leaves, delighted when they were indeed real. Even the bow string was a lush green vine, impossibly slender, yet it didn’t snap when she tugged it. The Soul Forge watched her lift it up, sighting a tree at the other side of the garden and pulling the string back. She gasped when an arrow of pure energy coalesced from nothing. It disappeared when she relaxed the string.

“Neat,” Julian commented, obviously impressed. “How will it help in close combat though?” Sypher held a hand out for the bow. Elda passed it back, watching him press two fingers to the jewel.

“Whoa,” she murmured when the metal moved like liquid, reshaping itself to release an impossibly sharp silver dagger, about the length of her forearm from hilt to tip.

“Every Soul Blade is capable of close combat work,” the Soul Forge explained. “Not all of them can do ranged attacks. Very few are good at both.”

“Doesn’t that depend on the wielder?” Elda asked, taking the dagger and testing its weight. It was perfectly balanced on her palm, feeling more like an extension of herself than a weapon.

“And the Spirit,” Sypher nodded. “Irileth is powerful and she’s taken a liking to you, so you shouldn’t have too much trouble channeling her when you’re ready.”

“Irileth and I aren’t on good terms right now.”

“Still mad at her for showing you why the Spirits are afraid of me?” he asked archly.

“More that she tried to convince me to enslave you,” Elda clarified, scowling at the ground.

“She didn’t have a choice. The First forces them to teach each Keeper. Irileth was just following the rules.”

“She didn’t want me to learn?”

“What she wanted didn’t matter. She said what she was supposed to and you made the choice you were always going to.” He smiled faintly. “I appreciate your anger on my behalf, but try not to be too hard on her if you can.”

“I’ll try,” Elda agreed. She hefted the dagger, practising the stances Julian had taught her. “This knife is flawless,” she commented after a minute or two.

“It’s not that impressive,” Lillian interjected from the villa doorway. Sypher tensed immediately, though this time his expression was one of rage. Elda automatically positioned herself between him and the Fae, watching her descend the few stairs into the garden with guarded eyes.

“Is irritating people all you do?” Julian complained.

“I have as much right to be here as any other Keeper,” Lillian retorted.

“You were stationed out in the valleys for a reason,” he argued. “You left the people out there undefended just so you could harass Sypher.”

“Artan deployed a small army to help them. My services weren’t required,” Lillian snapped. “I came out here to spar, if anyone is willing. How about it, Elda? Want to show me what you’re made of?”

“Not really,” the Princess answered.

“I didn’t have you down for a coward. I’m disappointed.”

“That makes two of us,” Elda retorted. “You lied to me.”

“Spirits, you’re as stupid as the rest of them.” A soft snarl escaped Sypher at Lillian’s insult. “Now I’m really disappointed in you. I thought you were smart enough to avoid falling for his lies.”

“Enough,” he snapped, stepping around Elda. “You want to spar with someone? Let’s go.” His tone was edged with steel.

“You’re the only one that can take me here anyway,” Lillian shrugged, grinning.

“You shouldn’t fight her,” Elda warned, shaking her head. “She’s the last person you should be touching.”

“And who else here can put her in her place?” he asked, eyes still glued to the Fae. When Elda didn’t answer, he nodded. “Go rest. I’ve got a jaw to break.”

“So are we doing this, or what?” Lillian goaded, grinning coyly.

“I’ve been waiting for a chance to punch you,” the Soul Forge growled. “You can keep your sword if you want. It won’t help either way.”

“You think I’ve lost my touch?” she asked, arching a blue eyebrow at him and drawing her katana.

“No.” His eyes flattened until there was barely a hint of fire left in them, revealing the demon soul very close to the surface. He cracked his knuckles and a shiver ran down Elda’s spine when he bared his teeth in a savage grin. “But you and I have a score to settle.”